The Encounter
by ana22
Summary: What if Claire had encountered Desmond after the hatch implosion before Hurley had a chance? Set during “Further Instructions.” Warnings: Strong adult themes language. Oneshot rated M just in case.


Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters.

Claire knew it wasn't safe to be walking in the jungle alone but she had to get away. The past few days had been quite eventful indeed. The sudden deaths of Ana Lucia and Libby, Desmond's surprising reappearance, two hunting parties setting out to look for Walt—one on foot and one by sea—and the sky turning purple seemed to throw the camp into utter chaos. A culmination of all the new occurrences along with Charlie and Locke's odd behavior just before taking off on a mysterious quest left Claire on edge.

When Rose offered to watch Aaron while she took a walk, she decided to make the most of her time with a babysitter. Although she knew what the Others were capable of and that she was putting herself at risk, she gathered a fluffy beach towel, soap and shampoo and headed toward the beautiful oasis in the middle of the jungle that she had only been to one time before. Soaking in a hot bath had been one of her favorite things to do to unwind and relieve stress back in the real world but at this point just having fresh water and a little privacy was a considerable luxury. As she treaded closer to the sound of trickling water, she heard a rustle behind her in the bushes and stopped dead in her tracks. A flash of Ethan's face just before she was kidnapped went through her mind.

She heard a faint voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "Are you alone?"

_Oh, God. What do I do?_ She didn't answer immediately but then realized that the person was obviously already aware of her presence. "Who's there?"

"It's Desmond."

She let out a sigh of relief. _Desmond._

"What are you doing out here alone?" Claire was confused as to why he was still cowering in the bushes.

When she started toward him he immediately spoke up. "Stay back!"

"What…?"

"Do you have any clothes?"

Claire was taken aback by his odd question. "Well, yeah. What I'm wearing. What's going on? Why are you acting…?"

"Do you have an extra shirt, anything?"

Claire was completely awestruck by the conversation she was having with what seemed to be the foliage. "I have a towel but I was planning to use it."

"That'll work. Give it here, yeah?"

Claire shook her head in disbelief but took her backpack off and retrieved the towel from inside.

"Throw it over here," Desmond directed her.

She stepped closer and tossed the towel in the direction he had indicated.

A few seconds later, he emerged from behind the bushes wearing only the towel around his waist. He had a wild look in his eyes and was covered in sweat, blood and black soot. "I'm sorry if I scared you, I just…"

"What happened to you?" asked Claire, perplexed by his appearance.

"I woke up in the jungle like this after the hatch…" his words trailed off.

_Okay, this is really fucked up._ "Are you okay? You're bleeding."

"I'll be fine once I get back to camp and find some clothes."

"You should clean up first, don't you think? There's a spring just past those trees and I have some soap and shampoo if you want to use it. Here." She handed him her backpack. "While you're doing that, I'll run back to camp and grab some clothes so you don't have to go back in…that." She nodded toward the towel, letting her eyes linger just a moment too long.

"That's very kind of you, but I don't want to impose."

"Really, it's no imposition." The statement was true considering she no longer had a towel to use for her much anticipated shower.

He accepted the backpack hesitantly and she quickly turned around and headed back toward the beach.

* * *

Claire made her way through the jungle a pair of pants and a royal blue button-up shirt that she grabbed from a pile of clothes that had been recovered from the wreckage and were up for grabs. Desmond was such a mysterious character—a _handsome_, mysterious character. She had heard Jack, Kate and Locke talk about the man who had lived in the hatch but he wasn't at all like she had imagined although she wasn't exactly sure what she had expected.

As she entered the clearing where she planned to find Desmond already bathed and waiting for her to return, she gasped and came to an abrupt halt. He was standing under the spring with his back to her, allowing the water to trickle down his naked body. Beautiful was not a word that was typically used to describe a man but it was the only word that came to her at the moment. He had the physique of what she would imagine of a Roman warrior or Greek god. His bronze skin made him look almost statuesque but reality prevailed over this illusion as the muscles of his back rippled with each movement he made.

She was unable and, perhaps, unwilling to move and was totally stunned when he turned his head to see her watching him. Their eyes locked in a captivating stare. He then slowly turned his body to face her, exposing himself entirely.

Claire didn't know what to do. Her first instinct was to run but some powerful, surreal force wouldn't let her. It was as if her logical senses were paralyzed and her rational being stood back and watched as she stepped closer until she was directly before him.

He didn't move as she took the washcloth he was holding and began to gently run it over first his right arm and then his left. She then slowly moved the cloth to his chest and began to work her way horizontally over its tense muscles. She could feel his eyes on her and hear his ragged breathing. When she reached the middle of his chest, just above where his heart thundered inside, she stopped and slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. They remained motionless for what seemed like an eternity and time stood still. Even though their skin never touched, it was the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced. As their lips gradually moved toward one another as if a magnetic force was pulling them together, a familiar voice broke the spell that had been cast over them.

"Hello, is anyone out there?" It was Hurley in the distance.

"I have to go." Claire dropped the washcloth abruptly as she came crashing back to earth. "You're clothes are right there." She quickly dashed toward the trees and pointed to the spot where she had dropped the clothes.

Claire didn't slow down until she reached the edge of the jungle, unable to grasp the concept of what had just happened. She was mortified by her promiscuous behavior but continued to replay the scene in her head. She wondered how awkward it would be when she had to face Desmond again and how she would deal with the guilt when she saw Charlie.

_Oh well._ Her lips formed a wicked grin. _At least I'll have plenty to daydream about._


End file.
